


What We Could Be

by whenlovesurvives123



Series: GriffGuts Happily Ever After [1]
Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, M/M, No Smut, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Some Plot, griffguts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenlovesurvives123/pseuds/whenlovesurvives123
Summary: When Griffith heard Guts’ decision to leave the Band Of Hawks, he was willing to do just about anything to make him stay, even if that meant six cups of wine and an unplanned visit to Guts’ room at 2 a.m in the morning. The aftermath of such a decision was definitely something he did not see coming.





	What We Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so this is not only my very first ever Berserk fic, but this is also my very first time writing a rated T fanfiction. I was actually able to show my parents’ this, I don’t even remember the last time I’ve written something parent approved. Welp, I hope you guys enjoy it and spread the GriffGuts love.

        Guts inhaled a large gulp of cool refreshing air before swinging his sword effortlessly, betraying the iron’s incredible weight. Sweat trickled down his forehead and his muscles tensed and flexed with every movement he made, swinging the sword over his head before slicing it through the air. 

       He had been doing this for nearly two hours now. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when he climbed out of bed and made his way to the large staircase outside the palace. Out of every other place in this kingdom, the staircase was the only place that was always empty during the morning hours, giving Guts the solitude he needed to swing his sword.

       But as he swung it this time he knew he wouldn't be the only living soul there for long, the moment he heard hurried footsteps charging towards him. He stifled an irritated groan once he spotted bouncing silver curls in his peripheral vision. Griffith.

      “Guts! Guts,” he chirped upon seeing his friend. He panted as he raced up the stairs that led to where Guts stood. Just how long was Griffith running?

      “Griffith?” Guts blinked perplexedly and lowered his sword. “What’s wrong?”

       “I come bearing good news-great news! Last night the king finally agreed to give Charlotte’s hand in marriage to me!” Griffith bounced excitedly in place like a child eager to open up they’re name-day presents. 

        Guts couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his friend so undeniably excited, perhaps never. Griffith wasn’t fond of wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

        Suddenly two hands seized Guts’ forearms and he began to spin. “Can you believe it, Guts? All our toils throughout the years have led us to this very day. I can barely find the words to express how unbelievable this is!” Griffith giggled as he stopped spinning Guts in favor of reclining against the railing. 

      With a chuckle, Guts hauled himself up until he was sitting on the railing beside Griffith, his sword sat between his legs. “You’re doin’ just fine to me, congrats; if anyone could pull this kind of thing off it would be you,” he said. “Being king would suit you, guess I should start addressing you as ‘your majesty’.”

     “Please don’t,” Griffith replied while perching his chin on his fist. From the way he was angled, it allowed the morning sun to blanche all color from his irises, leaving them an icy silver as cool as the crisp wind nipping at their skin. 

      The man blinked towards Guts. “I would never require you to do such a thing. And besides, I’m not royalty yet. We have yet to select a date for the wedding; the king prefers to organize a ball to announce the news to the kingdom before going through with the wedding arrangements.”

      “When’s the ball gonna be?”

       “Two weeks.”

        “Hm,” Guts answered shortly. He then looked down at his sword and tapped the tip gently into the polished stone below. All words failed him and seemed to evaporate into the still air between them. 

         Before letting the silence stretch any further, Guts strung a few words together. Better that than allowing what he needed to say to remain unsaid. 

         “Hey Griffith...have you thought about what happens next now that you’ve reached your dream?”

         “....Not in great detail since the journey is the hardest part and not the destination,” Griffith admitted, turning around so it was his back that leaned against the stone this time. “But I guess I will set out to do what every past king failed to do, take care of the poor and make social ascension possible for those trying to escape poverty. I wish to make this kingdom a shining city upon a hill for all the world to look up to and aspire to emulate.”

        “Sounds like you have given it a lot of thought,” Guts mused. “As for me,” he lifted his sword, “I still don’t know what I want out of life or what I want my purpose to be.”

         Raising a brow, Griffith asked, “what do you mean? Your purpose is to serve me till the day you die. Once I am king I will appoint you as a Knight Grand Officer and make the Band Of Hawks the primary army of Midland,” he said in that eloquent and irrefutable way of his, as though his words could bring to life all that he envisioned. And perhaps they did. 

        With a voice devoid of the mirth it once contained, Griffith declared that, “Everyone has a place in my vision”.

        Guts scratched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I’ll be any good as a Knight Grand Officer. I prefer to just swing my sword.”

         “Then I will give you another position,” he said jadely, “though, you deserve a high ranking one, so if not a Knight Grand Officer then perhaps a-”

         “Griffith,” Guts interrupted, summoning Griffith’s full attention. Those silvery eyes stared questioningly into his. Guts sighed before rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want any position in Midland’s army.”

        The air stood still. “Wha-” Griffith straightened. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to live by your sword.”

         “Yeah but not like this.” He wrenched the long heavy blade up and sat it on his lap, his calloused fingers glided over it’s polished surface that reflected as much of him as he did it. He wondered if Griffith would understand. 

         “For as long as I can remember I’ve been swinging this sword, killing just for the sake of killing and eating and sleeping wherever.” He looked at Griffith who looked on bemusedly. “I ain’t cut out for the fancy life. Never wanted it.”

        Griffith shook his head. “So you are going to throw away everything we have worked towards?”

        “I ain’t throwin’ anything away. I supported your dream because I believed in you and now that you’re about to get everything you ever wanted, I just don’t see myself having a place in it.” Guts shrugged. “I’m just a sword and you don’t need me cutting down enemies now that you’re about to become king.” Setting his sword down, he looked at the spring leaves skating playfully across the platform. He could feel Griffith’s keen gaze borrow holes into his side and even still he refused to meet his eyes. 

       “Now that you’ve finally achieved your dream, I think it’s time that I discovered mine.”

       “But-”

       “Lord Griffith.” Came another voice. Both of their heads turned to face a little servant boy who stood just a few feet away from them. “The king requires your presence”

       Griffith didn’t move an inch from where he stood, his mind a jumbled mess of cacophonous thoughts just screaming at him to say something, anything. He tightened his grip on the stone railing till his knuckles turned white. How could he have not seen this coming?

       Guts was the first to break the silence. “You should go. Don’t wanna keep the king waiting.”

      He looked up with raw devastation in his eyes. And Guts didn’t even look at him. “But...w-when were you planning on leaving?”

      He shrugged. “I guess after the ball”.

      Griffith’s heart catapulted into his throat. That was too soon. His head suddenly felt woozy, as though his center of gravity was out of bounds. At any moment Griffith was sure the floor beneath him would slip from under his feet. 

      “Lord Griffith?”

      His vision suddenly stopped shaking. 

      “Please this way, his majesty is waiting.”

       That's right- his future was right through that door. As if by magic, Griffith’s eyes brightened and his cheeks regained their rosy hue. He turned around and smiled at the little boy and no one would have guessed that his world was literally flipping upside down. “Of course,” he nodded. “Please show the way.”

  
  


       The moon hung proudly in the night sky, sending milky light to swamp the otherwise dark hallways of Guts’ house. Griffith tiptoed lightly, not wanting to stur any other soul that resided in that place.

        He felt a little crazy for going so far for a single soldier. Stealing keys to the house from an unsuspecting servant and sneaking in during the dead of night. But after enduring three torturous nights of little sleep, Griffith knew he had to confront the source of his stress. Even if it meant coming off as a fool.

       Griffith felt his way through the dark till he found what he believed to be Guts’ room. The first door on his right just outside of the corridors, the very room Guts had selected upon first moving into the house. He couldn’t believe this would be his first time entering Guts’ room since coming here. He hoped it wouldn’t be his last.

      Twisting the door knob, Griffith opened the door and cringed at the yawn that cracked through the silence like a whip. Guts tossed and turned under his sheets. So much for stealth.

      Closing the door gently behind him, Griffith teetered drunkenly towards Guts’ bed before ungraciously flopping down beside him. “Guts…” He whispered, reaching out to shake his bulky frame. “Guts…!”

     “Hmm…?” Guts turned sluggishly from beneath his bed sheets and blinked the moment he saw Griffith. “wha...Griffith? Wha’re you doin’ here?” He said groggily.

      “I came to see you.” Griffith insisted. Guts noticed the pink that consumed his cheeks and the dullness of his eyes that only alcohol could induce. “Forgive me for not being able to see you at a more reasonable hour, but, I’m afraid my days no longer afford me the luxury of catching up with friends. This is the only way I can see you.”

     Griffith looked around the room. From the little he could gather, and there was not much to gather, Guts wasn’t fond of keeping many possessions. His room appeared naked, even while bathed in the Moon’s essence. All Guts had in there was a small nightstand sitting beside a small twin bed, a candle holder, a modest dresser and his sword posted at the door. 

     He smirked. “I guess you weren’t jesting when you said you do not like the ‘fancy’ life.” 

    Guts sat up. “I prefer to keep only what I need, don’t like too much clutter.” He said matter-of-factly.

   “As I can tell…” Griffith stated before falling silent. He then glanced at Guts who looked at him expectantly and without blinking. He dropped his gaze, feeling very naked despite being fully clothed. 

     He cleared his throat. “...Guts...can you truly not carve out a place for yourself here? Is leaving truly the only way?”

     Guts seemed to relax at the question, shoulders dropping and fingers unfurled around his biceps. “Yeah, I won’t find what I’m lookin’ for here.”

    “And what exactly is it that you’re looking for?”

      Guts sighed and rubbed a hand sleepily down his face. He was  _ not  _ about to have this conversation again, especially during the dead of night. He fixed his eyes on his friend. “We’ve already spoke about this, Griffith.”

     “And you still haven’t given me a good reason why I should let you leave!” He exclaimed. “Why go when your purpose is to remain by my side?”

     “According to who?” Guts asked stolidly.

     Griffith’s eyes turned stone cold. “According to  _ me.  _ “ He slithered. 

      “Have you already forgotten, Guts? You belong to me. The day you lost to me was the day your life became mine.”

      Guts laughed mirthlessly. “I’m starting to get really sick and tired of your damn superiority, Griffith. You think you can just walk in here and demand that I stay? Maybe that bullshit works on everybody else but not me. I need to find my own path.”

      Griffith’s expression remained unchanged. He continued to scrutinize Guts with that same enigmatic dignified look that Guts came to despise. Griffith spoke. “And your path is to remain by my side, why is it so hard for you to accept?”

    “So you expect me to give up my whole life just to follow you for the rest of yours? I don’t think you understand, Griffith, I helped you with your dream. I gave you  _ three  _ years- what more can you possibly want?” Guts asked. 

     “You’re so close to achieving your dreams, in a few months you’re gonna be king so- what else is left for me here?” He could see Griffith visibly stiffen. “Become a high ranking knight or somethin’. You know this palace life and all this shit ain’t for me. So what could you possibly gain from keeping an unneeded sword?”

      “And what can I gain from not having you here?!” Griffith retorted. He could feel the back of his eyes prickled with unwanted tears. Closing his eyes, he willed them back before continuing in a quieter tone. “How will I benefit from you leaving my side?”

     Guts huffed out a breath. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Griffith.”

     Griffith shook his head, hot tears forcibly making their way to the surface and rimming his eyes. He jumped off of the bed and turned for fear of Guts seeing them. “You’re not leaving, Guts. I won’t allow it!”

     He remained unmoved. “And how will you stop me?”

     Griffith sighed heavily. His head pounded with the most vicious headache imaginable. He wiped both hands down his face and felt his center of gravity slip from underneath him once more. 

     “It’s late.” Guts mentioned, noticing the way Griffith wobbled back and forth like a ship trapped in tumultuous waters. “You should go home.”

    “No.”

    “Look Griffith, I’m not gonna change my mind so you may as well go home and get some sleep.”

     Raising his hand towards Guts, Griffith said, “Stop....”, his voice barely over a whisper, “Stop talking…” Guts held his tongue.

    Griffith sighed heavily again, his headache raining unbearable aches down his face and behind his eyes. He wanted to scream, or cry, or beg, or break something. He roughly rubbed the back of his neck and dug his fingernails into the vulnerable flesh.

     “Griffith?” He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and didn’t notice when Guts moved from his bed until he was right behind him. 

     He could feel the warmth radiate from Guts’ body and all Griffith wanted to do was lean against him, to bathe his senses in that sweet warmth and forget about everything. 

      Instead he knocked Guts’ hand from his shoulder and walked two paces ahead of him, feeling his neck burn with a fresh oozing wound. His jaw clenched. “You don’t just get to walk out and leave as though our three years of suffering to get here was for nothing!”

     He turned around to face Guts. “Am I nothing to you Guts? Was my dream all that kept you by my side throughout the years? Am I so grotesque that you can’t bare the thought of staying with me any longer?!” 

    “Griffith, that’s not…” Guts struggled to find the words to say. “That’s not it. I just don’t get it. Why is it so important to you that I stay?”

      “Because I need you, Guts!” Griffith lamented, eyes red and cheeks puffy. “I need you…” He sniffled. “Please...don’t leave me all alone in this place.”

      Guts could feel a pang in his chest. He stood unmoving, not knowing what to do or say, or think for that matter. It just didn’t make sense. Griffith was strong and ambitious, he didn’t need a simple common soldier who could never dream of standing beside him. 

     Willing his legs to move, Guts walked towards Griffith who immediately threw himself into his arms, his face buried in the crook of Guts’ neck. He hesitantly weaved his fingers into Griffith’s silver hair and felt something wet on his neck. Retracting his hand, Guts was shocked to find crimson decorating his fingers. He looked towards his friend.

     Carefully lifting silver strands, he examined his neck. There were eight scratches in all that looked angry against porcelain white skin, superficial and entirely self-inflicted. He felt a cold shiver slither down his spine. For the first time, Casca's words from all those months ago became very real. “Griffith I…” For some reason Guts knew he shouldn't bring up Griffith's habits, lest the other retreats back into his shell and leave in a still self-destructive mood.

        So he decided to deal with the matter at hand first. He spoke.“...I heard you that day a few months back. When you were with the princess after I...after I did what you asked me to do. You said that a true friend can never rely on another’s dream, and in order to be seen as an equal he has to have his own dream that he fights to protect, even if it means opposing you.

      If that is what you truly believe then why can’t you let me go?” Guts asked. “All I ever wanted since joining the Hawks was to be considered your equal. “ He revealed, letting Griffith's hair down in favor of massaging his scalp. “And hey, maybe this makes me a fool, but for a moment I actually thought I was but you changed that.”

      Griffith leaned unabashedly into Guts’ touch. Despite Griffith's wounds being seen, he searched for more warmth in Guts’ embrace, wrapping his arms around his waist and not caring if he appeared weak.

      He breathed in Guts’ warm earthy scent and felt his bare flesh press teasingly against Griffith’s clothed chest. With Guts’ fingers massaging Griffith’s scalp, he felt his senses dull into a sleepy trance. It took him a while to respond to what Guts said.

     “...What I said was never meant for your ears… what I said doesn’t apply to you, Guts.” Griffith whispered as though he was telling a deep dark secret. “I never thought of you as beneath me and I regret making you feel as though I have.”

     He then untangled himself from Guts to look up at him from beneath sooty lashes. “If I could go back in time and stop myself from saying those words I would.” His head lulled weightlessly to the side. “I would Guts…”

    “Griffith, you need to lie down.” Guts asserted and noted the slight improvement in his friend's mood. “Here.” Tossing back the covers, he sat Griffith down on the bed and removed his shoes before tucking Griffith in beside him. 

    “Do you forgive me, Guts?” 

    “Shh…” Guts hushed with closed eyes, tossing an arm protectively over Griffith. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, jus’ get some rest.”

  
  


       Griffith groaned as a splash of invading sunlight hit his eyes. Scrunching his face, he slowly sat up, feeling every muscle in his body protest from sleeping in such a tight space last night. 

      He rolled his head and tried to rub the soreness from his neck. Griffith then tapped the still raw fresh behind his neck, it sizzles hotly at contact but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore.He exhaled a sigh of relief. That relief was short-lived the moment he noticed Guts sleeping beside him, the memories of last night suddenly crashed into him like a ton of bricks.

    He groaned and this time, not from the sunlight. He felt like the biggest idiot known to man! Why did he let himself do that? Griffith rubbed his temples. He shouldn’t have drunk that many cups of wine, now Guts probably thought he was a lush  _ and  _ a self-harming fool.

     Griffith rubbed his jaw. He worked too hard to keep that part of himself hidden and now Guts knew, he knew every last one of Griffith's dark secrets, he half expected Guts to run for the hills now. But as he looked down at his sleeping form, with sunlight sprinkling his hair and his arm thrown sleepily over Griffith's waist, he knew that was a silly fear to have. Guts was still here, he just had to trust that Guts would remain so.

   Leaning down, Griffith kissed Guts’ cheek before carefully climbing out of bed, not wanting to wake him. Once he found his shoes, he slipped them on and made a beeline for the door, carefully opening and closing it behind him.

  While against the door, he released a sigh and was about to leave when-

  “Griffith?”

  He froze.  _ shit.  _ Griffith turned around to find Casca, Judeau, and Rickert standing behind him. He closed his eyes and internally screamed, he forgot Guts was sharing the house with them.

  “What were you doing in Guts’ room?” Rickert asked innocently. “Is he awake?”

   “Oh good morning.” Griffith chuckled awkwardly. “I was just dropping off an important item for Guts.

    “Hm.” They all said in unison, obviously not convinced. He could feel their gazes judging his appearance, from his unruly curls to his sloppy clothes. Griffith could feel the back of his neck sweat. 

     “Please pardon my appearance, I hadn’t the time to attend to it before departing.”

      Rickert’s eyes dropped to Griffith’s shoes. “Isn’t that the same-”

      “Well!” Griffith interrupted. “I would love to sit and chat but-as you can see-” he waved to his clothes, “I am unsightly at the moment and must be on my way to prepare for another day of meeting. Forgive me for having to leave so soon, perhaps we can chat some other time.” With that he scurried away.

       “Oh? Was that lord Griffith?” Asked a servant as she opened the corridor just as he past her. “What was he doing here so early in the morning?”

      “Oh...ah, please overlook that.” Judeau replied. “He was just dropping off something for Guts.”

      She tilted her head. “...In that state of dress?”

      Rickert rubbed his eyes, obviously still tired. “I wonder what was so important that he couldn’t wait to give it to Guts at some other time?”

_ I could imagine what.  _ Judeau thought quietly before indulging in Rickert. “I guess it will remain a mystery.”

     “Hm. I wonder if Guts is up.” Rickert asked before twisting the door knob.

     “Wait!” Judeau slapped his hand away. “Maybe we should wait till breakfast to talk to Guts. Right now probably isn’t the best time.”

       “Why? Griffith was just in there.”

        Casca rolled her eyes. “Let’s keep moving, I don’t feel like crowding around Guts’ door anymore.” Before exiting out the corridor she pulled out a small bag of coins and handed it to the maid. “This stays between us.”

      “Of course.” The lady responded before walking deeper into the manor.

  
  


      Two hours later, some of the members from the Band Of Hawks gathered at Corkus’ mansion for breakfast. He had the biggest dining rooms amongst them that could easily accommodate fifty people. And Corkus insisted that they continue to eat together like old times. 

      The room was booming with laughter and chatter, all melting into a indecipherable jumble of sound with Corkus’ laughter being the most distinct.

       “I’m telling ya women just can’t get enough of me.” He claimed, drinking his second glass of wine despite it being so early in day. Out of all the members, he was possibly the most gluttonous in terms of wealth, buying all the unnecessities money could buy, from golden cups, to a large ice sculpture of himself that sat in the center of the dining room. 

        He guffawed. “I can get used to this palace life. Somebody pass the bacon!”

        Judeau chortled before handing the tray of bacon to Corkus. “Didn’t one of the women you talk to throw wine at your face last night?”

        “Yeah well-”

        “And another one stormed out of your house on our way here.” Rickert interjected before ripping off a succulent piece of ham from the platter in front of him and stuffing it in his mouth. “Maybe it's because you keep telling the same war stories.” 

        The whole table snickered at that, including Casca.

         “Just shaddup! Okay?” Corkus shouted, his face becoming redder than a tomato. “You guys are just jealous, when was the last time you ever picked up a woman?”

         Judeau indulged him. “I’m not interested in picking up a woman at the moment but I can if I put the effort in.”

          “What are you guys talking about?” A man from the table sitting in back of them asked.

         Rickert answered him. “Oh, how Corkus is always losing women.”

         “Oh that’s easy.” The man said with a silly grin on his face. “It’s because he doesn’t pay them enough.” That had the table laughing till tears filled their eyes.

          “SHUT UP!” Corkus exploded. “I don’t have to pay ‘em! Unlike you I actually know what women want!”

          “Yeah.” Came another member from the opposite table. “More money.”

           “No! Dammit, despite what you all  _ think  _ you know, I actually leave my women  **very** satisfied.”

            Casca scoffed. “Can we please change the subject.”

            “It’s not our fault you’re not getting any action Casca.” Corkus taunted.

              “And I like it that way.” She replied before finishing her scrambled eggs. 

              “Hey, I wonder how Griffith is doing.” Gaston mentioned from down the table, successfully changing the subject. That only caused a knot to form in Casca’s stomach, she shoved her plate away.

              Gaston continued. “You saw how all those women were flocking to him at the ball a few months ago?”

               Corkus reclined against his chair. “Please, Griffith only got eyes for the princess. Any woman trying to court him may as well turn my way.” He said, waving his hand with a flourish.

               “Speaking of Griffith, I saw him this morning.” Rickert said.

               Casca’s eyes flew wide open. “ _ Rickert! _ ” 

                He blinked quizzically. “What?”

                “You really saw Griffith?” Gaston joined in, ignoring their exchange. “I haven’t seen him since we got here. How is he?”

                “He seems fine.” Rickert answered. “Though a little tired. I saw him leave out of Guts’ room really early this morning.”

       “WHAT?!” Corkus roared before grabbing Ricket’s collar and yanking him over the table. “What did you say?”

       “I-I just said he left out of Guts’ room this morning!” He stuttered.

       “That sneaky bastard!” Corkus shouted, shoving Rickert in his anger. The boy fell back into his seat. “Being sweet on Griffith behind our backs, that brooding-face fucker!”

       Over Corkus’ yelling, a few members began to laugh with the loudest being Gaston. “I always knew it was that kind of relationship between them. Time to pay up, Corkus.” He teased while holding out his hand expectantly.

      “Damn bastard, making me lose money over him!” Corkus grumbled angrily, his hand digging into his pocket and slamming his bag of coins onto the table. Judeau handed it down to Gaston.

       “Oh cheer up, Corkus”. Said Gaston.

       “Yeah, It was you who started the bet in the first place.” Came another member as he split the coins with Gaston.

         Another one patted his shoulder as if comforting a sulking child. “You would think he would bet on the most likely option.”

       Rickert turned his head sharply, watching as everyone in the dining room began to exchange bags of coins. He dug his hands into his hair dramatically. “Wait, am I missing something? Why is everyone exchanging money?” He then looked towards his friend, in hopes that he too was left in the dark. His jaw dropped upon seeing a pouch in Pippin’s hand. “You too Pippin?!” Rickert bellowed in shock.

     Even Judeau had money in his hands! Rickert could feel his cheeks storm with heat. “Why wasn’t I told about this, what are we even betting on?”

     Stuffing the pouch in his pocket, Judeau ruffled Rickert’s hair. The boy only pouted. “Maybe when you’re older Rickert.”

     The place boomed with more laughter and chatter until the dining room door was pulled open by another guest. Once Guts walked in, he would’ve mistaken this as an empty room if he haven’t seen his friends obviously sitting in their seats. 

     Some of them looked on at him as though he just sprouted two heads while others refused to look at him at all. He scanned the room perplexedly. Something unsaid seemed to be hanging in the air and swallowed up all chatter and cheers from only moments ago. 

    He shook his head. Whatever was said a few moments ago could remain between them for all he cared. He didn’t need to know everything that was happening with the band. 

    Taking a step into the dining him, he noticed someone, Corkus, huff a sigh before unceremoniously jumping out of his chair. “Now I lost my appetite.” He sneered before making his way to the door. “Thanks a lot damn bastard.”

    Guts blinked. What did he do this time to piss him off? He shrugged. If Guts learned anything during these past three years, its that Corkus was a ticking time bomb when it came to Guts. Just by breathing is enough to piss that man off. 

    He resumed his pace when the door slammed shut, making his way to where Judeau, Pippin, Rickert, and Casca sat. He took a seat in between Pippin and Judeau, where Guts always sat every breakfast. 

    The room was still quiet but at this point Guts didn’t care. His senses were too busy being assaulted by the appetizing scent of roasted honey glazed pork and steaming bacon. His stomach audibly rumbled. 

     Snatching up a fork and knife, he cut off a fat piece of pork for himself and scooped some scrambled eggs and toast onto his plate. 

    He heard someone clear their throat. Then Rickert began to talk. “Hey Guts about Griffith-”

     Someone behind him slapped the back of Rickert’s head, causing the boy to howl and rub his head. “Ow! Why’ja do that for~” He whined. The culprit only told him to ‘shh’.

     That caused Guts to raise an eyebrow. “What about him?” He asked before taking a bite out of the pork and feeling the tender meat melt in his mouth like butter. He had to admit, despite not liking the affluent lifestyle, he could definitely live with the food they served. He took another bite and moaned as the savory flavors splattered across his tongue.

     Gaston spoke up for everyone. “....Do you see Griffith often?”

      Guts took a swig of ale and leveled his gaze with Gaston’s, “I’ve seen him just as many times as you guys have.” He responded with a fork full of eggs and ham rushing to his mouth. 

     Somebody coughed a laugh. “Somehow I doubt that.”

      Before Guts could respond, Casca slammed her cup down hard, causing her wine to splatter across the white table cloth like blood. “You guys are childish.” Standing up, she signalled for Guts to do the same. “Guts come with me, I need a word with you alone.”

      Sighing through his nose, Guts dropped his utensils and followed after her to the back door that led to Corkus’ small garden.

     Once there, she turned around to face him with a gaze sharper than knives. Guts definitely didn’t understand what he did to get everybody so upset today. He literally just woke up. What could he have done within the short time span of waking up, getting dressed, and walking to Corkus’ house?

      He sighed. “Everyone’s acting strange.” He mentioned.

      Casca scoffed. “They’re acting strange because of what we saw this morning. Care to explain, Guts?” She challenged while folding her arms in front of her chest.

      He furrowed his brows, “Explain what?”

      “Your secret affair with Griffith!”

      “Wha-”

      “Don’t play dumb!” She shouted venomously. The flare in her voice glowering with a threat. “We saw Griffith leave your room early this morning. There’s no use in hiding it, everybody knows.”

      Guts rubbed his head, trying to think of the best words to say to end this misunderstanding. Judging from the black inferno burning in Casca’s eyes, he knew she was beyond reason. He knew there was nothing he could possibly say to convince her of the contrary. 

      He tried anyway. “You got it all wrong.”

      Her jaw dropped and her eyes grew dangerously thin. Guts internally groaned, preparing himself for the thunderous onslaught he was about to endure. “You would think after what we have witnessed you would have the decency to tell the truth…!” She lashed out, her slender frame shaking like a volcano on the brink of eruption. She turned slightly away from him, a veil of newly grown black hair concealed her face from view. 

      “...All these years…” Casca whispered. “...Only you, only you were in Griffith’s eyes and nobody else! I was fine with standing in your shadow so long as neither of us could have him.” Her voice cracked and it was then that Guts knew she was crying. She faced him then, black eyes glassy with unbidden tears. “But  _ you _ …” She snarled, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest. “...You just had to take him for yourself…”

    He grasped her wrists only for her to snatch it away. “Casc-”

    “Don’t talk, Guts!” She demanded. Just like last night with Griffith, Guts respected her wish and remained quiet. A blanket of silence settled between them, with only the sound of the wind and the distant chatter coming from the dining room to fill their ears. He continued to look at her quietly as she composed herself, viciously wiping the tears from her eyes as the wind playfully tossed her hair. 

     Guts wished he knew the right words to say to make her feel better, but even if he did he was sure she still wouldn’t want to hear them. 

    With a huff, Casca looked straight into his eyes. Her sadness from only a moment ago was placed with a newfound flame, only this time it didn’t burn as hot. “I hope you’re ready to take responsibility for this.” She said. “Now that you have Griffith, I hope you’re ready to  _ always _ keep him happy...he’s not...he’s not as strong as everyone thinks he is…” She exclaimed, causing Guts to remember their previous conversation from a few months ago.

     “...You better not forget that.” With that she disappeared back into the mansion, leaving Guts to contemplate his thoughts alone. 

  
  
  


    Later on that day, Guts sought out Griffith at the palace. He was allowed entry thanks to his new status as a baron of midland. He was told by a servant boy that Griffith was last spotted by the rose garden in the back so Guts decided to look there first. 

    The air was cooler than it was earlier, he noted as he stepped outside to the rose garden. The air was crisp and clean as he inhaled deeply, but it also maintained it’s distinct spiciness that only early spring air could bring. 

     From the platform overlooking the garden, it didn’t take him long to spot Griffith. He stood at the heart of the garden, linked arm in arm, with princess Charlotte. The girl’s face lit up with a smile at something Griffith said.

     Griffith seemed to share in her glee too, his eyes glittering like the shimmering sea at noon. Guts halted his steps. He didn’t know why but he felt like he was intruding on a private moment between them, just like at the promrose hall. If Guts were to wait a little longer, would the scene play out like it had all those months before?

    Well- he pinched the bridge of his nose- he wouldn’t know for sure if he kept standing on the platform. Walking down the steps, Guts made his way towards the pair and ignored Charlotte when her gaze met his. 

    “Oh, Guts” Griffith said in that mellifluous voice that always sounded velvety to Guts’ ears. 

    “The Raiding Captain…” Charlotte noted beside him.

    Giving Guts a smile, Griffith turned towards Charlotte and grasped her hand. “Forgive me my princess but if you could pardon my friend and I? I would like to have a word with him in private.”

    “Oh, but of course.” She agreed before walking a few paces away from him. “I will see you at dinner this evening. It was lovely seeing you again Sir Guts.”

    “Oh, you too.” Guts replied. Seemingly pleased with his answer, she waved at them and walked away.

     Once she was gone, Griffith tipped his head down the path towards the enormous fountain a few feet ahead. “Walk with me?”

     Guts gave a curt nod before meeting Griffith’s pace. He looked at his silver-haired friend who walked slightly ahead of him. He adorned his signature blue coat with intricate gold patterns that reflected the sun’s dying light. Guts’ eyes continued their descension downwards, taking in his fitted pants and leather boots that stopped at his calves. 

    When he looked up again, he saw Griffith staring at him from the corner of his eyes. Guts blinked confusedly and felt strange heat rush to his face. It only made Griffith giggle before averting his gaze.

    “Its a magnificent garden isn’t it?” Griffith declared. “Some of these roses are rare species that have been gathered from all over the world.”

     Guts cleared his throat. “Yeah, looks nice.” He said, giving the entire garden a once over before paying attention to Griffith once more.

     “So,” Griffith slowed his pace and Guts did the same. “You wanted to have a word with me? Is it about last night?”

     “Eh..yeah...sorta.” Griffith smiled at the uncertainty in Guts’ voice. It was adorable. “Well, not really.”

    “Hm.” Griffith nodded as if already knowing that would be the answer. “Then is it about this morning? I ran into Casca and the others in the hall. I’m sure that could’ve caused some trouble for you.”

    “Yeah.” Guts cleared his throat again. Was he nervous? Or just a little embarrassed? Griffith thought. “According to Casca everybody thinks we’re…. _ together  _ now.”

    “Oh really?” Griffith asked, not all that surprised. “I knew it would come to that but I didn’t think the rumor would travel as fast as it did.”

    “What do you think we should do about it?”

   Griffith looked up at the sky as though in deep thought. His blue eyes traced the streaks of orange, pink, and red that haloed the setting sun. “Well..would it be so bad to give the rumor some weight?”

   Guts tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

   He looked at the flowers then back at Guts. “I mean, become what everyone suspects we are.”

   Guts raised his eyebrows in surprise. “...I..I don’t know, Griffith.” He stuttered, a rare occurrence for Guts. “How would it even look like?”

     Griffith shrugged nonchalantly. “The way we are now I suppose, just with kissing, hand holding and other things as they come along.” He looked back at Guts, his heart pounded wildly in his chest as he awaited his answer. 

     “But what about the princess.” Guts asked while staring into the blue enigma that was Griffith’s eyes, trying and failing at finding the puffy-eyes man from the previous night. Had he truly recovered  _ that  _ quickly? 

      Griffith stepped closer, his unreadable mask never falling for a second. “She will never find out and even if she were to catch wind of our relationship, she won’t believe it. He described. “In her eyes I am something out of a dream and she would rather believe in the idea of me.” With another step he laced Guts’ fingers with his. His expression slipped for the slightest of seconds, revealing the ghost of a blush on his face, before returning to a detached facade. Guts raised an eyebrow, Griffith was overcompensating. 

     He continued. “So I will allow her to continue living in her own fantasy while you and I can have reality together.”

    “But what about the Hawks?”

    Griffith stepped closer till he felt Guts’ breath stir the curls at the sides of his face with every exhale. “They would be happy for us.” 

   Guts swallowed, his mouth suddenly becoming too dry. “And Casca?”

   Griffith seemed to smile at that one. He took an even closer step, their chests were flushed against one another, noses pressed side by side and lips only a breath away.

    “Values my happiness over all else.” Griffith whispered against his lips. They were so close. Only a hair away from locking lips in the garden for all the world to see. At this very moment Griffith could care less, he would gladly put on a show for any onlookers. 

   “...Fine.” Before Guts could react, Griffith sealed their lips together in a searing kiss that burned away any remaining questions Guts had. He then matched Griffith’s intensity, hooking a strong arm around his back and moving his lips in tandem to his. 

    Griffith’s lips were soft and warm and so freaking enticing that Guts lost himself in them. Griffith’s hands migrated to Guts’ face, gently cradling his head as he deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue over Guts’ bottom lip, asking for access. 

    Once he complied, Griffith slipped his tongue into his mouth, spurred on by the need to explore every inch of the man he denied himself of for far too long. 

    Guts had never been kissed like this before, as though his mouth belonged to the other, the flesh of his body, the air in his lungs. Griffith consumed every thought in his mind and and every cell in his body. 

    A line of saliva formed at their mouths as they broke the kiss, panting and staring at each other with eyes darkened by lust. No words were exchanged between them, only the wordless messages between new lovers. Griffith caressed the sides of the man's face, loving the feel of his skin beneath his fingers. Licking his lips, he pressed his forehead against Guts’.

   “Again?” Griffith purred.

   “Yeah.” With his hand at the back of Griffith’s neck, he pulled the other back into a mind-shattering kiss that caused every nerve cells in Griffith’s body to fire off delicious signals throughout his entire being.

    Never again would he underestimate the power of six cups of wine.

**Author's Note:**

> If you loved the story then please feel free to leave a comment or kudos. Love you guys!


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